


Lullabye and Goodnight

by Crowgirl



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Childhood Memories, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Memories, Not Beta Read, Pining, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: Obi-Wan hums a few notes as if in demonstration and a tingle that has nothing to do with circuitry goes straight down Anakin’s spine. He manages not to do anything truly stupid like blurt outyou used to sing to me!
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 355





	Lullabye and Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catchclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/gifts).



Anakin hasn’t thought about the voice in years until he pushes aside the door that joins his quarters to Obi-Wan’s and hears humming. He pauses immediately, sure that someone else must be in their quarters -- but no, there’s no-one even in this section of the building, just the two of them and... ‘Master?’

The humming stops. ‘Yes?’ 

‘I -- thought I heard someone else.’ 

‘Wishing for different company?’ 

Anakin rolls his eyes since he knows he’s safely out of Obi-Wan’s sight. ‘Yes. Desperately. Every moment.’ 

‘Sorry to disappoint you.’ Obi-Wan’s chuckling under his breath and Anakin would be annoyed by this -- he hates being laughed at as a rule -- but there’s something about how Obi-Wan does it that he doesn’t mind. Which is foolish. Being laughed at is being laughed at. 

‘Was there something you actually wanted?’

‘Which one of us has to go tonight?’ There’s a dinner, the first of the events they’re supposed to shadow the Senator for; Anakin isn’t looking forward to any of them. 

Obi-Wan sighs. ‘Oh -- oh, both of us, I suppose. It would look better.’ 

‘It’s going to be very dull,’ Anakin points out.

‘I’m well aware. Is there a reason that you’re talking to me from behind a bookshelf?’ 

‘Just looking at the books,’ Anakin lies, coming around the end of the shelves into the main room. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t bother picking up that piece of very obvious bait. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of one of the low round tables, his sabre semi-disassembled in front of him.

‘Oh...’ Anakin bites his tongue before he can go on.

Obi-Wan waves a hand at him. ‘I’m perfectly capable of carrying out routine maintenance on my own.’ To prove his point, he slips part of the focussing circuitry back into place; to prove Anakin’s point, the circuit sparks blue and Obi-Wan yanks his hand back. 

Obi-Wan reaches out carefully to touch the circuit which sparks before he even lays a finger on it. ‘Oh, fine, fine, fine; I can feel you smirking at me.’ He throws Anakin a mock-glower over his shoulder and waves at the cushions on the floor beside him. ‘Come show me how it’s done.’

‘Again,’ Anakin can’t resist adding as he slides down cross-legged. 

This time the glower isn’t so mock. ‘Yes, again.’

‘Why did you think someone else was in here?’ Obi-Wan asks after a few moments of silence as Anakin squints at the sabre components.

‘Hm?’ For a minute Anakin can’t think what he’s talking about. 

‘You said you thought someone else was in here. I didn’t notice anything but you’re often better at catching the transient than I am. Did I miss something?’

Anakin shrugs out of his wide-sleeved robe and pulls the misplaced circuit free, focussing on it with more care than it strictly needs. ‘I heard someone humming and you don’t do that.’

‘Don’t I.’ 

‘Not usually, no.’

Obi-Wan shrugs and leans his chin on one hand, his elbow on the table. ‘The Senator’s daughter is having trouble sleeping. All this running around.’

‘You could try giving her a lecture on Jedi history.’ Anakin ducks away from the light blow Obi-Wan aims at his head. 

‘Just for that, you get two this week.’ Obi-Wan resettles himself on the cushions. ‘No, I was just trying to remember some lullabies I knew -- oh, many years ago.’ He hums a few notes as if in demonstration and a tingle that has nothing to do with circuitry goes straight down Anakin’s spine. He manages not to do anything truly stupid like blurt out _you sang to me!_ and before he can say anything else, Obi-Wan goes on: ‘But I can’t seem to get it right.’

Anakin slots the last circuit in place. ‘There. All it needs is the casing.’

‘Thank you, Anakin.’ As always, Obi-Wan sounds as though Anakin has just done something much more meaningful than fix a couple of misplaced circuits. It isn’t as though it’s even difficult. 

‘You’re welcome.’ And, as Obi-Wan carefully seats the curved casing and before he can stop himself, Anakin adds, ‘You’re going up when you should go down.’

‘Pardon?’ Obi-Wan looks up, one eyebrow high.

‘The song. You --’ Anakin hums a high note. ‘You’re going up.’ 

‘And I should--mm.’ Obi-Wan taps the last corner of the casing in place and, without looking up at Anakin again, tries the notes over. 

Anakin shrugs into his robe, giving undue attention to the folds of cloth over his shoulders and hoping the movement hides the shake in his hands. 

* * *

The singing had always seemed vaguely magical. It only happened when things were bad and he thought he must be mixing things up, remembering his mother singing to him as a very small child. His memories before about age thirteen are a bit of a blur and he avoids thinking about them. Particular incidents stand out sharply: seeing Threepio’s eyes light up for the first time; his mother standing in their doorway; the weight of Qui-Gon’s hands on his shoulder in the middle of the council chamber. But the rest is vague and he leaves it that way.

Here and now, Anakin lets his gaze drift across the ridiculously large dining room until he finds Obi-Wan standing against the other wall, hands hidden in his sleeves, expression carefully impassive. Had he even known Obi-Wan could sing? He can’t remember ever hearing the other man sing, whistle, hum -- anything along those lines until this afternoon. And there was no way he could mistake the voice.

Across the room Obi-Wan shifts his weight slightly and glances up at Anakin. A slight head tilt: _Is something wrong?_

Anakin shakes his head. _No, nothing._

_You’re worrying about something._

It’s in Anakin’s mind to deflect the question, make a joke about how he’s worrying about how Obi-Wan became a master when he’s regularly defeated by his own weaponry -- but he lets the words slide away, choosing instead to strengthen the walls he always keeps carefully in place around the privacy of his thoughts. And he is very, very careful around Obi-Wan. _No, I’m not._

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow slightly. _Would you like to try that again?_

Anakin swallows a sigh and glances away. _I was thinking about the song. I’ve -- heard it before somewhere._ And he feels a slight -- tingle, something akin to the shiver that had gone down his spine that afternoon. It’s just a brush, gone almost as soon as he notices it, but it leaves him feeling very slightly lightheaded.

_It’s a common enough song. You probably remember your mother singing it._

_No,_ Anakin denies it before he thinks and only barely keeps himself from wincing. _No, it -- it isn’t her voice._

 _Oh?_

_It’s a man’s._

_Ah._

And the Senator pushes back her chair, followed by the First of Corellia, and they have to look busy. 

* * *

That night Anakin has more than his usual trouble falling asleep. Meditation doesn’t soothe him; drill just makes him sweaty. If he closes his eyes, all he can hear is the faint echo of Obi-Wan humming to himself and then the questions start to come in a cascade: why hadn’t he remembered? why had no-one ever mentioned it? had Obi-Wan deliberately been careful not to remind him? why remind him now? Because this afternoon had been about reminding Anakin; the Senator’s daughter is a nice enough girl, but Obi-Wan’s never expressed the slightest interest in her health before.

He groans aloud and resorts to something he hasn’t done in years: flops onto his belly, closes his eyes, and pulls the blankets firmly over his head. It’s childish but the enforced quiet and sense of very slight weight over him often work together to send him to sleep when nothing else will. 

_...‘You’re dreaming again.’ There’s a voice and a touch, someone brushing his hair off his forehead. He’s hot and sweaty and the hand is pleasantly cool. ‘You’re just dreaming, Ani. There’s nothing wrong.’ He can’t find words to say what he knows to be true which is that everything is wrong; the world is twisting around him and he can’t stop it and if he can’t stop it-- ‘Sssh now. You’ll make yourself sick.’ And there’s soft humming, no words, just a tune. ..._

He swims back to wakefulness sometime before dawn and becomes aware of two things almost simultaneously: the tension from the night before is gone, replaced with an almost ridiculous sense of wellbeing, and he’s hard. Not only is he hard, but he already has his hand under the waist of his loose sleep trousers and wrapped around his prick. 

This isn’t dream aftermath -- he knows that feeling and it never goes this far, usually just enough to make him twitchy and irritable in his own skin. No, this is that feeling of -- he doesn’t know what, but he can almost feel it lying close enough to touch his skin, warm and soft and _good_ and before he can think too much about it and talk himself into a more acceptable response, he squeezes himself hard enough to make his toes curl and shuts his eyes, pushing back into his pillows. He grips the bedclothes with his free hand, pulling them tight over his chest, tight enough that he can feel the weave of the cloth against the sensitive skin across his breast and-- _‘Fuck.’_

* * *

Obi-Wan is long gone by the time Anakin gets himself together, showered, and dressed. They trade off hours with the senator for the rest of the day.

* * *

Anakin slips out of the overcrowded, overheated ballroom onto one of the small balconies. There are elaborate gardens spread out below, ornamental lights scattered here and there and he can smell the lingering scent of sweetness from the flowers even though the sun is long down. 

He positions himself in the shadow of the heavy drapes that are caught back along the inner wall of the room, and finds the senator in the crowd. She’s fine because of course she is because there was never any need for them to be here in the first place. 

Obi-Wan comes in the far doors, the senator’s daughter, Naren, half a step before him. She’s a goodlooking girl, tall for her age, and Anakin can see the appraising eyes that go over her. Once, on some backwater world he can’t even remember the name of, one of their hosts had assumed Obi-Wan and Naren were a couple. Obi-Wan had laughed it off but it irritated Anakin for the rest of their stay.

Obi-Wan glances around the room and Anakin deliberately cloaks himself, retreating a further half-step back. There’s no reason he should be avoiding his teacher -- they haven’t seen each other all day which is highly unusual, but Anakin can still feel the warmth on his skin from waking up that morning and lying to Obi-Wan takes some amount of preparation. 

As if the thought had summoned him full-grown from the ground, Obi-Wan is standing in front of him, a glass in each hand. ‘Drink?’

Anakin blinks at him. ‘We don’t drink.’

‘Perhaps you don’t.’ Obi-Wan puts the second glass down on a nearby table and turns so they’re standing shoulder to shoulder. They stand in silence for a few minutes then Obi-Wan clears his throat. ‘Would you like to tell me or shall I start guessing?’

‘There’s nothing wrong, master.’

‘Do you honestly not realise you only call me that when you’re lying or is it just an accident?’ Obi-Wan takes a sip of his drink which Anakin only now realises can’t possibly be his first.

‘I -- I haven’t been able to get that song out of my head,’ Anakin says. It’s true enough.

Obi-Wan is silent for a long minute then, unexpectedly, he sighs. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ 

‘I’m not upset. I just -- Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Is it so important?’ 

‘Yes,’ Anakin says, surprising himself. ‘I thought I’d made it up, imagined it.’ 

‘No -- no, you didn’t. I -- it was just -- Silliness. But you were barely sleeping; none of Qui-Gon’s tricks were working.’ Obi-Wan shrugs. ‘I was tired, too; if you didn’t sleep, I certainly didn’t.’ He raises the glass to his lips but doesn’t drink. He makes as if to speak once or twice and Anakin keeps himself silent with an effort. Whatever Obi-Wan is trying to say -- or trying not to say -- he wants to hear it. Finally, Obi-Wan sighs and puts the glass down on the table. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--’ He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

‘Then why did you?’ Anakin can feel that same strange tingle from before but this time it’s crawling over his skin. 

Obi-Wan glances up at him, eyes slightly narrowed. Then he shakes his head again. ‘No. If -- it’s better for both of us if this conversation doesn’t continue.’ 

‘Wait, _what--’_ But before he can frame a full sentence, Obi-Wan is gone, responding to an imagined signal from someone in the crowd. Anakin nearly plunges after him but stops himself. There’s something much more than a simple lullaby going on here and until this moment, he had thought he was alone in it. The thought hadn’t bothered him particularly: he’s used to not being quite what he should be but that Obi-Wan should be the _same--_

The thought holds him still. Obi-Wan isn’t like him, isn’t _anything_ like him: he never gets hauled before the Council, never has to justify what he’s done to three different superiors, never hesitates on the right decision to make. Obi-Wan’s the one who tells _him_ the right thing to say, to do, to feel--

Anakin bites his lip, hesitates for a brief moment, then plunges back into the crowd, making for the shortest route back to their quarters. 

* * *

He has to wait until nearly midnight but the door finally opens and Obi-Wan comes in, his gaze fixed on the floor, his outer robe over one shoulder. He doesn’t look up until Anakin clears his throat, then his head snaps up. 

‘You should be in bed.’ Obi-Wan drops his robe over the back of a chair and rubs a hand over his face. ‘I should be in bed.’ 

Anakin stands up; he’s been thinking of nothing except how to guide this conversation in the correct direction and he’s sure Obi-Wan can see his hands shaking. ‘I decided we should continue our conversation. From earlier.’ 

Obi-Wan gives him a long look. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘No, I think I do.’ Anakin takes a step forward.

Obi-Wan sighs, closing his eyes and rubbing the knuckles of one hand over his forehead. ‘Anakin, this isn’t a good idea.’

‘You say that to me a lot,’ Anakin points out, taking advantage of Obi-Wan’s closed eyes to step within arms-reach of him. 

‘And it’s almost always true.’

‘Almost,’ Anakin repeats, with emphasis and Obi-Wan’s eyes fly open. ‘Not this time.’ 

‘And how do you know that?’ 

Obi-Wan’s trying to push them back into their usual channels, their usual back and forth. ‘I don’t know how. But I do. Tell me why you sang to me.’ 

Obi-Wan’s shoulders sag. ‘Because you were a child and you were lonely and you were scared. We took you away from your family and put you in the middle of a war and you -- you did so well but at night --’ His voice trails into silence.

‘And when I was older?’ Anakin pushes his advantage shamelessly. ‘When I was sick after Mantell? Or when I was in the sickbay because that droid sentry got my shoulder?’

‘I--’

Anakin can practically _taste_ the warmth on his tongue now; it's thrilling all over his body. ‘That was two months ago. I’ve still got the scar.’

‘Anakin--’

‘And I don’t know why I didn’t put it together before. It seems very obvious now.’ 

Obi-Wan winces and covers his eyes with one hand. ‘Anakin, I--’

‘And what’s really surprising,’ Anakin continues, forcing his voice into evenness. ‘Is that _I_ noticed and _you_ didn’t.’ 

‘What?’ Obi-Wan drops his hand and glares up at him. 

‘You’re always telling me I’m not careful enough and--’

‘Anakin,’ Obi-Wan cuts him off, voice stern enough to be alarming if Anakin couldn’t see the corner of his mouth twitching up. ‘Stop talking nonsense.’

‘Master Yoda says it’s one of my few skills.’

‘Lets not bring Yoda into this.’ Obi-Wan reaches up slowly, as if Anakin might startle, and puts one hand against his shoulder. Whatever he sees in Anakin’s face has him lifting his hand again almost immediately, starting to shake his head. ‘Anakin, this --’

‘No,’ Anakin says loudly, startling himself and puts his hand over Obi-Wan’s, pressing Obi-Wan’s palm against his shoulder. ‘No, I’m _right,_ I _know_ I am.’

‘Is this like how you were right about that patrol on Nemoidia? Or how you were right about Caminoan neutrality?’

‘No. It’s better because no-one can get hurt.’ Before Obi-Wan can say anything else, Anakin ducks forward and kisses him. Obi-Wan’s entirely still for a moment, then Anakin feels him sigh and his hand relaxes on Anakin’s shoulder, his mouth turns soft, and Obi-Wan is leaning towards him and Anakin has never in his life felt anything like the sensation of Obi-Wan’s lips on his. 

Obi-Wan’s the one who pulls back after a moment, slipping a hand up to the back of Anakin’s neck to pull their foreheads together. ‘Anakin. This is a very, very bad idea.’

‘Why? Because the Council would be angry? They’re angry at us most of the time anyway.’

‘Because Jedi aren’t supposed to--’ Obi-Wan bites back whatever he had been about to say.

‘It’s a stupid rule, Obi-Wan, and hardly anyone follows it. You know that.’ 

Obi-Wan is silent for a long moment, then clears his throat quietly. ‘It’s not the rule I’m worried about.’

‘What, then?’ Anakin wants this part to be over so they can go back to kissing. He’d always guessed it would be enjoyable -- why would so many beings do it if it weren’t? -- but he really had had _no_ idea. His lips are tingling and they’d only touched _once._

 _‘You,_ y'fool. They’ll -- they’ll take you away, send _me_ away, split us up.’ Obi-Wan’s fingers tighten on the back of his neck. 

‘No,’ Anakin says with a certainty he _knows_ he can back up. He can _feel_ it down to his fingertips, his own weight and heft and height. ‘No, they won’t.’

Obi-Wan starts to shake his head and all at once, Anakin has had enough. He’s not good at talking; he never has been and he never expects to be. So he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and pulls down the walls he has been most careful to keep in place. He hears Obi-Wan gasp and opens his eyes to see color flooding into his cheeks, his eyes wide and dark, and he’s looking at Anakin as though he’s never seen him before. Anakin feels an unaccountable urge to shuffle and look away but before he can, Obi-Wan’s hands are cupping his chin, holding him steady. Obi-Wan watches him for another endless moment, then closes his own eyes, and the distant tingle Anakin had felt before is _nothing_ in comparison to the flood that washes over him now.

There’s sight and smell and sound and for a minute it’s almost overwhelming before he remembers to breathe.

‘Anakin.’ Obi-Wan’s voice pulls him back and he opens his eyes; he has to blink several times before he can see Obi-Wan clearly.

Obi-Wan’s smiling at him, a kind of sad half-smile Anakin hates on sight. He cups a hand against Anakin’s cheek. ‘I wanted you to know for so long.’ He pauses and takes a deep breath. ‘And we -- we don’t have--’

Anakin kisses him hard to stop the stupid, _stupid_ words.

Obi-Wan breaks away, gasping. ‘I _believe_ you, Anakin, it isn’t that but -- I’m _frightened,_ don’t you understand? I’m _afraid.’_

Anakin shakes his head, sliding his hand around the curve of Obi-Wan’s throat, slipping his fingertips into the short blond strands at the back of his neck. ‘I’m not.’

Obi-Wan’s mouth curves up and he shakes his head. ‘You never are.’

‘So you be scared and I’ll be brave and we’ll figure it out. That’s what we always do, isn’t it?’

‘You’re going to take even more liberties now, aren’t you?’ Obi-Wan says in a despairing tone, but his eyes are bright and both his hands are on Anakin’s chest.

‘Oh, I hope so,’ Anakin says before he thinks and Obi-Wan laughs. 


End file.
